Be cool
Something different this week: An essay/short story . . . thing? Enjoy.
Weekly Three
HEAR: The worst? When you hear a song you like but miss the chance to identify it. The best? When somehow that song comes back to you. I heard this jam, missed it, then my friend happened to post it on Instagram.
READ: The author of this interesting piece says book reviews are not meant for readers, but are, in fact, "first and foremost an audition" for struggling writers aiming to impress big publications
VIEW: A beautiful video of starlings flying in "murmurations" a.k.a. dense, shape-shifting swarms
No. 42: Be cool
Be Cool Hotline Transcript 5/22/2021
Hey, listeners! Mr. Cool here welcoming you back to another segment of the Be Cool Hotline on the Midwest’s hottest station for today’s top hits, 99.7 KISS FM. I’ll be taking your calls for the next hour at 1-800-BE-COOL. And it looks like we’ve got our first caller! Hi, it’s Mr. Cool at the Be Cool Hotline. Welcome to the show. Let’s start with your name, age, location!
Hi, um, this is Ralph. I’m 10. From Chicago. Hi.
Hi, Ralph. How can I help you today?
Well I like riding my scooter, but I feel a little embarrassed having to wear knee pads and elbow pads and a helmet like my mom says. She won’t let me out of the house without them, but the other kids, this kid Jack down the street, his parents don’t make him wear them. Whenever I ride by Jack’s house, Jack and his friends laugh at me. They call me Helmethead. What do I do, Mr. Cool?
First of all, Ralph, ditch the scooter. Throw it in the trash. Buy a skateboard instead. Skateboards are much cooler. They’re associated with rebelliousness, counterculture, drugs, alcohol, crime, all of which are cool. See what I’m saying, Ralph?
No, not really. Sir.
Skateboards don’t have handlebars.
So? I love my scooter. It’s so fun. And fast. It’s silver with green wheels. Santa got it for me for last Christmas. It makes me so happy.
No more scooter, Ralph. You want to be cool, don’t you?
Fine. Okay. If you really think it will help get Jack to stop making fun of me, Mr. Cool. If you really think it will.
Now about those pads. Tell your mother you aren’t going to wear the pads anymore. She’ll tell you it’s for your safety, okay Ralph, but don’t listen to her. Safety is not cool. Safety will get you laughed at by Jack and his friends. Safety turned you into Helmethead. Risk is cool. Danger is cool. The possibility of getting injured? Cool, Ralph, because when, if, you avoid these unfortunate outcomes, you would have dodged a bullet, so to speak, and that is very, very cool! Wouldn’t you agree, Ralph?
Dodging a bullet? Like in the movies? That was so cool! But I don’t think my mom will be okay with that.
She might not, Ralph. But you need to stand up and be a man, Ralph. How old are you? 10? It’s time to grow up. Unless you don’t really want to be cool, like you said you do. Do you really want to be cool, Ralph?
Yeah, I do.
I thought so. Then you have to stop listening to your mom. You have to stop caring about what she says. Cool people don’t care. About anything. Your mom included. She might beg you to listen to her. She might even cry. She will try to ground you. She will probably ask your dad to talk to you. But you have to not care, Ralph, and do things your way. The cool way. Because cool Ralph does not care. About his mom. About his dad. About his grandma. About his grandpa. About his brother. About his sister. About his dog. About anyone. Okay, Ralphsters? Trust me on this.
Even my dog, Honeybear?
Even Honeybear, Ralph.
Okay, Mr. Cool. Thanks a lot. You rock.
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Thanks for calling the Be Cool Hotline on 99.7 KISS FM. Mr. Cool here. Can you tell me your name, age, location?
Hi. This is Hector. I’m 31 and live in Los Angeles.
Los Angeles. Cool place, Hector. How can I help?
There’s this girl at work, Darla. She so sweet and beautiful. I’ve had a crush on her for two whole years now, and I’ve tried to get her attention, but nothing seems to work. You’d probably think she’s cool. I do. Always dressed well. Nails done. Smells nice. But she never seems to notice me. Last week, I asked if she wanted to get lunch. You know, a burger or something? All expenses paid. She said yes, but for the whole first half she was texting and for the second half she was on the phone with her friend. I think the only words she said the whole time was “Get me the number six.” And I considered that day a success. I know, sad. This other time was worse. Since I know she has a thing for chihuahuas, I spent three weeks watching YouTube videos about origami. Eventually I folded a hundred little chihuahuas out of post it notes and set them up around her keyboard before she got to work with a note that said, “From Hector. Hope you like them.” But when she got in, she just scooped all the chihuahuas into her hand and threw them away with this disgusted look on her face. I was right there, trying not to look hurt. What should I do?
Your problem, Hector? You care too much. Worse, you show it. That’s like the biggest no-no of being cool. It’s like, are you people even listening to my advice? I say the same thing every week. But still you call with the same— Here’s what you need to do, Hector. Stop paying so much attention to her. Pretend Darla isn’t there. That she doesn’t exist. That she never existed. That’s what girls like, okay Hector? Got that? They want someone who’s occupied with other things, with other women, or with themselves. A guy that would love them tenderly and satisfy their every wish? Not what they want, buddy. Hate to break it to you. Actually the opposite of what they want. Am I being clear, Hec? You have to treat her like there are five million other Darlas out there, like she’s common, just another girl, or, even better, a lifeless, air-filled space, okay? No, even better than that, a not air-filled space. A vacuum.
But doesn’t that seem a little, I don’t know, counterintuitive to—
Hector . . .
Okay. I’ll pretend she’s a lifeless, air-filled— I mean a vacuum, like you said, Mr. Cool. Got it. I can do it, I’m pretty sure.
Next thing is, you’ve got to be a little self-obsessed, okay Hector? You’ve got to project an air of wealth, dominance, and aggression. This will be hard at first. Always is. But soon, you’ll get the hang of it and it’ll start to feel natural. Trust me. Now here’s how I want you to do this. First, I want you to start hitting the gym. Hard. Focus on your biceps and your chest only. In a perfect world, you’d target the abs to. But baby steps.
I like my body the way it is now, though.
Hector, did you call me or did I call you?
There’s a Planet Fitness not too far from—
Next, get yourself a flashy car. It doesn’t matter if you can afford it or not. Buy it. Lease it. Whatever. That’s what a credit card is for, okay? Am I right? You’re going to want something that is 1) stupidly expensive 2) has only two seats 3) is preferably European 4) is loud and obnoxious. When you pull into the parking lot each morning, be sure to rev the engine so that everyone, vacuum included, makes note of your arrival. Also, make sure to leave at the same time the vacuum leaves, so she, it, sees you getting into your new car, headed toward your, it will think, big-ass house.
Sure, I guess I can look into loan options. I do have this Datsun my dad gave me in high school. Runs like a champ. Love that car. But if you really think a new car will do the trick—
It will. Last but not least, you’re going to need to make some improvements to your wardrobe. Now I don’t know you, Hector. Maybe you’re quite stylish. But judging from what you’ve said, you’re not. So go to the store. Or online. Doesn’t matter. What matters is, designer only. Okay? Credit it, Hec. God bless America. Some tasteful jewelry doesn’t hurt either. Just be sure keep it to a minimum. A necklace. Maybe a watch. Oh, and, how could I forget! Tattoos. Get one. Get many. A sleeve, let’s say. Chicks love that. Not much that’s cooler than irreversibly changing your body. Koi fish are hot right now. Black and white or color will work. Either way. In fact, the artistic quality in general doesn’t matter much. Just get a tattoo. Any tattoo. Finally, a haircut. The Benicio Del Toro is a proven winner, okay?
Damn, I love Benicio! Thanks, Mr. Cool.
But the big thing, Hector? Don’t make it so obvious that you care. Remember, vacuum. Always there. Somewhere. But neglected. I promise you, results will follow.
Don’t care. Don’t care. Don’t care. Got it, Mr. Cool. If it means I can have Darla, I’ll do anything. Thanks so much for your advice.
* * *
Thanks for calling Be Cool Hotline on 99.7 KISS FM. Mr. Cool, here. Can I get your name, age, location?
Private Fielding. 34 years of age. Stationed at the Shindand Air Base, Herat Province, Afghanistan.
Thanks for your service, Fielding. How can I be of assistance?
I joined the Marines thinking it would be a cool thing to do. You know, guns. Killing enemies. Air strikes. Cigarettes. Heroism. Medals. Uniforms. Jets. Pussy. Like those World War II movies and Call of Duty video games. But it’s not cool. Not cool at all. My friend, Daniels, took a bullet to the head on our last patrol. That was difficult to watch, him getting shot, dying. He was telling me how he missed his dog, Biscuit, a fluffy Burmese mastiff or something, and was excited to see him soon when, BAM, right through the skull. Had his helmet on, too. Went right through. His eyes kind of rolled back and then— There was Ramirez, too. Loved that guy. Hilarious. IED got him. We had to go back to where the explosion happened and walk around the sand, looking for what was left of him. Sorry, if you didn’t know, an IED is a road bomb. Stands for—
I know what it stands for. Please, get on with it. This segment is only an hour.
Well like I said all this is not what I was expecting. Not nearly as cool as they make it seem. I thought I would come out here like some kind of Rambo or something, but no. I’ve been living in this hot ass tent for five months. It’s 105 degrees in here. Smells like shit. And I’ve got another seven months till I’m home. My friends are dead. And then yesterday I called my wife all excited to learn what she’s been up to and how much she misses me, only to find out she’s pregnant with this guy Jeff’s baby. He’s the barista at the Starbucks down the street from our house, that [expletive]. How do I salvage this situation, Mr. Cool?
First of all, Fielding. Your friends? Daniels and, what was it, Ramirez? I think they’re very cool. They’re awesome. They’re dead, yes. But they died cool. Heroes. Legends. In action. Now that, my friend, is frickin’ cool if you ask me. Wouldn’t you agree? I hope you can find some solace in that.
I . . .
As for you, Fielding, I want you to get the hell out of that smelly tent and go kill some enemies. What the hell are you all the way over there in Afghanistan for anyway? The World War II movies? Call of Duty? Like you suspected, cool as shit. Make it happen! What’s stopping you? Do it on your own time if you have to. Sure the higher-ups might not allow it, might be certainly pissed, but who cares what they say? Sneak off the base, head into town with your rifle, and start shooting at anything that moves. Now that’s action. Now that’s cool. Am I right? Another thing, if you want to take it to the next level, make sure not to wear any protective gear. Leave your helmet and your bulletproof vest behind. Hell, go shirtless. As for ammo, take what might seem to be surprisingly small amount, to make things interesting. What would be even cooler? Bring another soldier with you to give yourself the potential opportunity of saving him or cooly dying in the process. You know, taking a bullet. Jumping on a live grenade.
I love it, Mr. Cool! Thank you! Might be somewhat of challenge, sneaking off the base, but I’ve always been one for a challenge, haven’t I? Thanks for the great advice. You’ve totally lifted my shit mood. Also I know just the person. This kid Kelski. Nineteen. Just got here. From Denver. I think? Real gung-ho. I’m sure he’ll be willing. But the thing with my wife and the barista?
Fielding? Listen closely. [Expletive] your wife. She probably never loved you. The real question is why you ever loved her. You’re a soldier. Everyone knows soldiers are lone wolves. Plus, real love is for lames. Parenthood? Especially lame. Let her stay with that loser barista. You’re a goddam soldier, Fielding, a goddam soldier! So act like one, dammit!
You know, I knew I could count on you, Mr. Cool. You’re so right. Thank you for all your help. They’re closing the gates to the base now., so I better get going. Got a few preparations for tonight, and need to have a man-to-man with Kelski. Thanks again.
Anytime, Fielding. Aim once, fire twice. Hoorah. [Laughter]. You’re an American hero.
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Thanks for calling the Be Cool Hotline on 99.7 KISS FM. Mr. Cool, here. Can you tell us your name, age, location?
Jessica. I’m 17 and live in Boston. Hi, Mr. Cool.
Hi, Jessica. What’s on your mind today?
I grew up in a very religious household. Christian. Mom raised us that way. But I have this boyfriend, Kevin, and God do I love him. He’s so fun. He introduced me to the wonders of weed and xanax. I feel more relaxed than I’ve ever felt. Like I’m floating all the time. It’s great. Anyway, I hang out a lot at Kevin’s parents’ house since they let us sleep in the same bed at night. My mom doesn’t let us do that at our house, and she doesn’t like how much I’m staying over at Kevin’s, let alone in his room. Says it’s not how she raised me. But what if I don’t want to live how she raised me? I’m so sick and tired of her shit. She says it’s just because she loves me, but it doesn’t seem that way. What do you think?
Your boyfriend Kevin sounds like a super cool guy, Jessica. In fact, after we get off the line, text me his number? I’d like to— follow up with him afterwards to see how you two are doing, if that’s okay? But let’s get down to business. Your mom’s passing off her oppressive tactics as love? Fake and uncool. She wants to control you, Jessica, as you suspect, but so far you’re doing a good job of blazing your own path. Kudos. She may not have “raised you that way,” but has it ever occurred to her that her “way” might have been wrong? Well, it was. Kevin’s parents on the other hand? Seem very cool. Trust your instincts, even if dampened by the effects of drugs. I think it’s great they let you sleep together. Sex is amazing! Am I right? One bit of advice, though? Use contraceptives. Or get an abortion if need be. Last thing you need is to ruin your cool streak with, god forbid, a kid. Now, believe me, Jessica, you may think your case is unique, but in fact it’s quite common. The cause? God. Renounce everything you were ever taught. It will take time, but it can be done. There’s not much else less cool than the doctrines of believers. Don’t take the lord’s name in vain? Christ. Honor thy father and mother? How about, no? Thou shall not kill? Boring, shoutout Sgt. Fielding, good luck tonight! Thou shall not commit adultery? Just suck all the fun out of life, why don’t you? Forget about your God, Jessica, and don’t worry about heaven, hell, or your overbearing mother. Just have fun. You have my blessing.
Gosh! That’s exactly what I needed to hear. Thank you, Mr. Cool. Love your show. And I’ll be sure to text you Kev’s number. Love you! Bye.
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Thanks for calling the Be Cool Hotline on 99.7 KISS FM. Mr. Cool, here. Tell us your name, age, location, please?
Ralph’s mother.
Ralph’s mom? Oh. Ralph. Um, is there a reason you’re calling, Ralph’s mom? How’s our little Ralphsters doing?
Dead. [Sobbing] He was hit by car this afternoon. Oh God. My husband said he heard you on the radio earlier telling him to scoot— or skateboard— whatever you said, without his helmet. If he would have had a helmet— Oh God. Oh God. My little Ralphie. Oh God—
At least he died doing what he loved! Right?
No, he loved riding his scooter. He was killed crossing the street on a skateboard.
Well at least he died learning to do something he would have, at some point, loved, right? I think that’s pretty cool, don’t you? Have a drink in a dark and moody bar. Lift your glass. For Ralph. That’s the coolest way to deal with a death. Okay? Will you do that?
[Sobbing] I can’t believe you would — Goddam you! Not my little Ralphie. [Expletive] you, Mr. Cool! How could you do this to my sweet little family, my sweet little Ralphie! Gone! Forever! I swear to God I’m going to report you to—
Well it seems we’ve lost Ralph’s mom. Next caller. Do we have another caller? No? Well folks, it seems that’s all the time we have today here on the Be Cool Hotline. A big thank you to all our callers, and we look forward to hearing from, and helping you, next week. As always, remember, Be Cool, Fool! Bye now. ♦
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